Memory
by Fogs of Gray
Summary: The following days after her death, he couldn't think. This is how he attempted to cope, up until that February night. SPOILERS: Beautiful Creatures & Beautiful Darkness
1. Chapter 1

This is just a preliminary run. I'm not too sure of this, so I'll probably take it off before I finish it. Please review. :)

Spoilers: Eh...possibly none?

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

* * *

It him suddenly. He had kept it together for weeks. He was staring at the paper, when it slammed into him. His head fell into his hands. He would have been crying. He hadn't cried in years, but he knew his limits, and he knew he would have been sobbing. He should have been beside himself. Maybe he would have thought it through. Maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to get over it. He could have it behind him. He could have enough energy to smile, actually smile, not the half assed grin he pulled when he needed to rebuild some barriers. He could have moved on. But he left that chance years ago.

He attempted to pray. He really did. The words wouldn't form. He couldn't think that an entity so praised would take Jane from him. He was unsure about that. He could see how it would be right to take her from him. But not her son. Her husband. He tried to pray for a week.

He attempted suicide. He was going to stand in the middle of the cemetery and wait for dawn to show her rosy fingers. Wait until the pain drowned out her cries. Until her voice was merely an echo. Until he could hear his death nearing. He tried suicide nine times. The same words called him back. He never questioned it. He never tried again.

He buried himself in work. He never slept, Cast some façade so the children wouldn't notice, lied to his family when questioned. He read until his mind was numb. Until his thoughts ran circles and he could hardly notice the time, let alone those damn eyes staring back at him. He worked up until he realized there wasn't a way out of it.

He traveled the world. He claimed he was looking for that book. He saw many women. He learned languages that he never thought existed. He said he was living his own life. He was fulfilling his obligations. He was never questioned. The children never accompanied him. He saw everything he had hoped to see. He stopped when he understood the one thing he wanted to see wasn't his.

He drank his mind away that night, in an attempt to erase her. He drank until he couldn't remember his name. Until the burn was little more than a set back. Until his hands shook. Until he was sure he could, possibly, kill himself. But her voice kept him sane. He threw back the scotch bottle. He continued drinking up until the night he died, her name at the center of his mind.

He tried smoking. He would sit out on the porch, inside his study, where the children wouldn't see. He wasn't ashamed. He didn't want them to know how hard life could be. How it could be perfect and how it could crumble with the slightest mistake. With the smallest breath. It did work. Smoking shut his mind off almost a little too well. It worked until one of the children, Ridley, implored on it. He had stopped cold. He didn't touch another cigar until that night in February, when chilled calm overtook his thoughts. Until it was the end, and he fulfilled his promise.

And so he sat, his head in his trembling hands, his eyes bloodshot, his thoughts dead. He sat until he could feel her hand on his back, burning hell through his suit. He sat until he knew he had to move on.


	2. Chapter 2

I almost forgot about this story. So being the stupid author I am, instead of deleting it, I figured in another chapter. Of course, this is all I have at the moment. :) I'm waiting for the rest of inspiration to hit. So! Lets read some memories!

* * *

He was sitting in the back corner of the lecture room. She was late. He wouldn't have noticed on any other day. He hadn't been sleeping well these last months. He did his best to cover it up, but a few nights every month evaded him. It was starting to effect him. He was glad no one had sat by him. He wouldn't have noticed, but she was late, and the professor had stopped to catch his breath. He had been watching with bleary eyes. The door suddenly opened, a hinge creaked, and she appeared. Her cheeks were flushed. Her pulse was roaring in his ears. Her hair was windblown. She sheepishly slipped into the aisle he alone occupied. She settled close to him rather quickly. She ran a bemused hand through her hair before turning to him. "Jane Evers. I don't think we've met before."

He responded as genially as possible. "Macon Ravenwood."

She laughed quietly, as not to be heard. "I certainly would remember you." Her voice was soft, her head turned to the front. He couldn't help but agree with her. He would certainly have remembered her.

* * *

He was sitting under one of the trees, his head leaned back against the bark. He suppressed a yawn. He had tried reading. That was nearly an hour ago, and he hadn't finished the paragraph. In fact, he couldn't remember what it was even about. He let his eyes close. He wouldn't fall asleep. He would just...rest his mind. He fought a wince as other memories filled in the darkness his closed eyes offered. Memories he had buried long ago. He focused on breathing. The bustle of feet slowly faded. A soft sigh left his lips. It was amazing. Someone shifted beside to him before starting a question.

He hoped it was her. That was his first thought before opening his eyes. The next was that he was going crazy, not hearing her close to him. She was there with him, her hair pulled up and cheeks flushed. "Are you alright, Macon?" He didn't answer for a moment.

"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, however I don-" Lips pressed against his. His thoughts spluttered. He felt it, a spark of electricity running through him, singing through his veins. He drew back quickly. She watched him intently.

"We must have different definitions of fine." She hesitated before tracing under his eyes, where he knew bruise like blotches were spreading. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks, Macon." Her hand retreated. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

* * *

She leaned against the doorframe. "What are you doing, Macon?" A smile found its way on him, unusually bright at the sound of her voice.

"Reading, Lila." Laughter was in his voice. He counted the footsteps it took her to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Her head dropped beside his.

"There's nothing there, Macon." He was tempted to question her when he remembered she wouldn't see anything with the Casts he had placed on it. He gently tapped the page and turned to watch her expression as the words slowly appeared.

She was beautiful. Her lips parted slightly, as though a retort was already on the tip of her tongue. Her brows furrowed slightly. She then but her bottom lip. "Reading." She nodded softly. "Alright. How...how did you do that?"

"I can't tell you."

"What are you? Some sort of wizard? I mean...it's a joke, isn't it?"

"Of course not. We prefer the term Caster, but, yes, I suppose they are similar terms." She nodded again.

"Does this have anything to do with..." She coughed meaningfully. Macon waited for a second.

"Yes." He paused, watching her color drain. "Jane, you need to sit down." With a quick flick of his wrist, a chair pulled itself across the room. She took it without saying anything.

"This...dynamic between us is not unheard of. We have certain...limitations that our relationship will never pass."

Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

"Like..._that_." She nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay? Jane, you can hardly say this is 'okay'. We should end this before you get hu-" She lunged to capture his lips.

She pulled back an inch to meet his gaze. "I have you. That's all I need, Macon."

* * *

He dropped the other bombshell a month later. He was sitting on the bed in her dorm, her head in his lap. "Macon, we've had this discussion before, with you being a Caster. I don't care what you are."

"Jane, I won't be myself. I know how Cubi relationships end. Someone always gets hurt, Jane. I can't..." He closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was thick. "I won't allow you to take that chance."

"How long?"

"I don't know. A few months, in the best of circumstances. A week, in the worst." She noticed the shadows starting to appear under his eyes.

_He hasn't been sleeping. _"I won't leave you." His eyes flashed open, darker for a moment. He blinked and they brightened again.

"Jane-"

"I'm not abandoning you."


End file.
